no place for promises
by ASongInMyHead
Summary: Locked in the palace dungeons, Sharn encounters a familiar face. Set during Series 1.


The damp cold of the dungeon floor seeped through her thin dress, and Sharn shivered, hugging her arms around her chest. It was quiet, which was rare. She had grown accustomed to the sound of screams from the other cells. The room was not lit, but she could hear things scurrying in the dark. She had been in the dungeon for four nights; she knew by counting her meals. Stale bread and hard cheese were shoved through a flap in the water-swollen wooden door in the morning and at night, and a guard brought in a jug of water in between. Hunger pangs prickled in her belly, but they were not unfamiliar, and she knew how to bear them. She knew what it was like to want things that were unattainable. It was the unknown that frightened her.

Terror had pulsed in time with her heartbeat as she and Endon were torn from their bed. Icy fear had clutched her heart as a fierce hand dragged her painfully to her feet by her hair. _We have lasted sixteen years, and they have found us out,_ she had thought wildly as Endon had cried out in surprise and rage. One of the guards upended the dining table, and another threw a vase against the wall. _Somehow they know who we are. They will kill us for this, and they will find Lief and do the same to him, if they have not already._

The last time she felt such fear, she had been running through the palace on swollen feet, following Jarred's lead with Endon just behind her. She had lifted her skirts to step over the bodies of her friends, and listened to dying screams, knowing they could be her mother; her father; her sisters.

But she had survived that night, and she had not been killed after her arrest. Surely, they would not have let her live if they knew who she truly was. Which left only one reason for their imprisonment: Lief and Barda were succeeding.

Her panic had faded over the days, replaced by a steady pulse of fear. There was nothing to do in the cell, except sleep and worry. She had seen no one but the guards with the water jug. She feared for Lief and Barda, and for Endon, who she had been separated from after they were taken. A cut on her cheek throbbed, and a crusty scab had formed on her scalp, but otherwise the guards had not laid a hand on her since her arrest. She would not fool herself into thinking that would last. How strange it was to sit locked up directly underneath the home she had once fled. She had been born in the palace, and maybe she would die below it.

The door to the cell swung upon without ceremony, and a tall man stormed in. Sharn pressed herself against the wall and covered her eyes; she had been so used to the darkness that she was half-blinded by the man's torch. When at last her eyes adjusted, she lowered her trembling hand and screamed. Prandine stood before her, his thin lips pressed together in displeasure, his face unchanged by time. She remembered the bite of the knife he had held against her throat; the scratch of his clothing against her skin; the weight of his body against her hands; the terrible scream he had made when he died.

"No," she pleaded. Was this her punishment? Had the spirit of the man she had killed come to claim her? "No."

 _I killed you, I killed you, I killed you._

"Good evening, Anna," the man who wore Prandine's face said. "My name is Fallow."

He did not truly know her. The harsh and heavy sound of her own breathing filled the little room. She was missing something. It was not Prandine. It was a trick. Not a spirit, but an illusion? A brother? She had heard whispers of shape-changing creatures from the west, could he be one of them? It did not matter. Monster or not, she would find out what he wanted soon enough.

Her heart thudded in her chest and she felt sick. She had nearly betrayed herself. Anna would not recognize that face. _Let him take my reaction for fear,_ she prayed. She had always been good at playing a part. She rose to her feet on shaking legs, supporting herself on the slimy wall. She would not kneel.

"Why have you brought us here?" she cursed her voice for the way it shook.

Fallow smiled, a terrible condescending expression that tightened the skin around his skeletal cheekbones. Sharn knew that look well, and she hated it. "We are long past such foolishness. You know why. There is nothing left for you to protect. Your son is as good as dead, Anna. Just tell me the truth of where he is, and I promise I will show kindness I would not otherwise share with you and Jarred."

Sharn went cold. "I do not know what you mean. Lief has forsaken his family," the lies tasted like poison on her tongue. "He did not like our simple life, and now he gets to do as he pleases. I do not know where he is."

Fallow's false smile slid from his gaunt face. He stepped closer to her, holding his torch nearer to her face. The flame licked terrifyingly close to her face, burning a few stray strands of her hair. She flinched backwards and pulled her hair away as the horrible burning smell filled the cell. Fallow withdrew, clearly pleased.

"Your husband has been unhelpful, but I would hope that you are clever enough to provide us with some answers," the man said sharply, but Sharn did not hear most of his words. _Endon was alive._ She could not hide her relieved smile. He saw it and glared; the dancing flame of his torch made his face appear monstrous.

"Your son is committing violent acts of thievery and treason through the land," he continued. "Does it not disappoint you to know your son is a murderer? Tell me then, of his companions. I have my suspicions as to who the man is. Tell me about the girl."

 _A girl?_ That was unexpected. _Who was the girl?_ Barda had wished to enter the Forests of Silence first, but what if they had gone west, instead? The chances were slim, but could she be—

"Anna," he said sharply. "I do not have time to wait in this stinking pit. What do you know of these people?"

His lips were oddly stiff as he spoke, which she had taken to be a trick of the shadows cast by his torch. _But no,_ she realized. _He is keeping them from trembling. He is afraid. He fears my son._

The people of Deltora had nothing at all. Nothing to hope for, nothing to look forward to. Long ago, as Jarred and Anna were preparing to leave the forge, Jarred had taken Endon by his arm.

"Some of my customers do not always have enough money to pay for their goods in full," he had said solemnly. "But you must help them anyway. That is your duty, now."

When he had reopened the business, Endon had not done as Jarred asked. Not out of malice, for Sharn could see how his heart broke for the people who had suffered and gone unseen by him. But out of a lack of understanding. Endon could not comprehend, at first— nor could she— what it meant to not have _enough._ Not enough food, not enough money, not enough hope. It had taken them a month to realize the importance of Jarred's task, when a very young woman with three small children had cried at the realization she could only afford part of her purchase.

"It is fine," Endon had told the young woman, gently. "You can pay me the rest later."

The woman's swollen eyes had shone with relief, although they all knew there would not be a _later_ , for this was Del. Outside of the palace there was no such thing as _more._ Endon had wept that night, ashamed that the woman had been the first of his people he had ever aided. If Lief, Barda and their companion were succeeding, it meant that they were bringing back hope to a land that had forgotten what it meant. They could not be allowed to fail.

A wave of quiet fury washed over her as she stared up at Fallow's face. That man had no right to threaten her, or her family. _You do not know who I am. I have killed to protect my family before,_ the voice in her head was like ice. _I would do it again._

"I know nothing," she said. "Except that you fear them."

Fallow's jaw tightened, and Sharn delighted in the tiny gesture.

"You work for the Shadow Lord," she said softly, "but you are afraid of three people. What a sad little man you must be."

Fallow stared at her for a long moment with blazing eyes. She waited for him to strike her, but he was clearly restraining himself. How long would that last?

"I will allow you to sleep on your answers, and I will return in the morning," Fallow warned her. "Think about what you wish to tell me. I showed patience tonight. If you do not have anything of value to tell me tomorrow, I have some tools that will _help_ you remember."

"If you wish to frighten me, you will have to try much harder."

Fallow pressed his lips tightly together. "You will not be so bold when I take out your eyes," he slammed the door as he left, drowning her in darkness again.

Let him return. She knew what torture awaited her. She knew that they would hurt her, and threaten her husband, while they did the same to him. She knew he loved her too much to say anything, even if he thought his words would save her life. The only thing they shared more than their love for each other was their love for their son. They would die before they betrayed Lief.

Her anger faded into exhaustion, and fear clutched at her heart again. She tried to show Fallow that she was unafraid, oh, but she was. She did not want him to hurt her. She did not want to die.

"Oh, Lief," she whispered, and fell to her knees. "Please take care."

She buried her face in her hands, and wept.


End file.
